


Purple Rain

by DistractedDream



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!, Yu-Gi-Oh! Series
Genre: M/M, One Shot, Songfic, Thiefshipping, prince - Freeform, purple rain - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-04
Updated: 2016-10-04
Packaged: 2018-08-19 11:09:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8203709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DistractedDream/pseuds/DistractedDream
Summary: "I only want to see you, only want to see you, in the purple rain."
 Super-short little songfic because the song "Purple Rain" made me think of Thiefshipping.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Obviously, go listen to Prince's "Purple Rain" if you're not already familiar with the song.
> 
> Thank you to SerenityXStar for beta-reading!
> 
> I can be found on Twitter @DistracteDream and on Tumblr @DistractedDream. Please leave kudos or comments if you liked this! I appreciate every single one.

_I never meant to cause you any sorrow_

_I never meant to cause you any pain_

_I only wanted one time to see you laughing_

_I only want to see you laughing in the purple rain_

_Purple rain Purple rain_

_Purple rain Purple rain_

_Purple rain Purple rain_

_I only want to see you bathing in the purple rain_

* * *

“BAKURA! Ya ibn el sharmouta…” Marik Ishtar clenched his fists as he shouted after the dark figure stealing away down the alley. The rain ran down his bare shoulders and arms, the water flowing down the tense muscles. The hems of his khakis were soaked and he already regretted not throwing on his boots before jumping down the fire escape of his apartment. The rain slicked the building sides and the concrete and gave everything a pale purple glow from the city’s neon lights. “Ayreh feek, iksu! How dare you walk out on me!”

That made the black coated wraith pause, looking over his shoulder at Marik. His wet hair stuck to his forehead, the white color dull in the low lighting. The Ring lay heavy on his chest as he turned. “This is unbecoming. There doesn’t need to be a scene.” He stood deceptively relaxed and crossed his arms, half covering the golden pendant.

“A-a scene?!” Marik stuttered and spit the words. “I’m not making a scene! I woke up and happened to catch the edge of your fucking trench coat disappear over my windowsill. What the fuck do you think you’re doing?! Leaving like that?” His throat tightened and he tried to focus on his anger instead of the pain. “I don’t even warrant a fucking ‘so long’?”

Bakura sighed heavily and pushed his damp fringe off his face. “So long. There. Does that make you happy?”

The tomb keeper choked at his blasé attitude. “No! No, of course it fucking doesn’t! Why, Bakura? Why are you doing this to us?” He shivered in the cool rain, hopeful that it hid the few tears that slipped past his lashes.

It didn’t. Bakura’s pale lashes shadowed his cheeks, making the dark circles under his eyes even darker. “You know very well why.”

* * *

_I never wanted to be your weekend lover_

_I only wanted to be some kind of friend_

_Baby I could never steal you from another_

_It's such a shame our friendship had to end_

_Purple rain Purple rain_

_Purple rain Purple rain_

_Purple rain Purple rain_

_I only want to see you underneath the purple rain_

* * *

Their affair had started months ago during Battle City. They worked together toward their own ends but the banter and the partnership had given each stimulation and release that neither had found in another. Then Marik’s Darkness defeated them and that should have been the end of their deal.

Yet when Bakura took possession of Ryou’s body once more, he felt drawn to Marik as though the Egyptian was an unfinished quest. His return had been a shock but he soon found himself welcomed inside the apartment Marik had kept in Domino City. Talking had become touching; touching, tasting, until they found themselves sweat-slick and needy, falling into Marik’s bed. They had passed out, both still flushed and limbs tangled.

The spirit had awoken to the sound of rain beating against the glass of the skylight above them. Bakura untwined himself with all the caution of a thief trying not to spring a trap, dressing without a sound. He glanced at Marik’s still-sleeping face, the precipitation and light from the nearby signs blending to give the bedroom a watery lavender glow. Bakura knew it had to be intentional, that Marik would choose this as his bedroom with this lighting, yet he was still charmed by it, by the innocence of his sleeping face.

Bakura’s cold fingers caressed Marik’s warm cheek and then he was gone.

* * *

_Honey I know, I know, I know times are changing_

_It's time we all reach out for something new_

_That means you too_

_You say you want a leader_

_But you can't seem to make up your mind_

_I think you better close it_

_And let me guide you to the purple rain_

_Purple rain Purple rain_

_Purple rain Purple rain_

* * *

“Is your vengeance that important to you?” Marik forced himself to scoff, forced himself to ignore the tears merging with the rain on his face. “Give it up! Bakura… Bakura, it’s not worth it.” He took a step closer, grimacing as he stepped in a puddle. “I defeated my other self because I realized it wasn’t worth it. Revenge isn’t worth denying yourself the chance to be happy. And I wasn’t happy, Bakura. I wasn’t, not until you.” His lower lip trembled and he bit down on it to get it to stop.

“Your vengeance was misplaced.” They were cruel words and Marik’s eyes widened at the statement, no matter that it was true. “Mine is not. Kul Elna will have justice. My people, my family will find the eternal rest denied them by the Pharaoh.”

Bakura’s calm demeanor and cold tone cut through Marik. “It wasn’t this Pharaoh! It was his father. And either way, both of them are DEAD!” His muscles shook from the chill of the air and his frustration.

“SO AM I!” The Ring spirit screamed the words back to the man, stalking to him as he speaks. Marik stood straighter, half expecting Bakura to attack. “I’ve been dead for five thousand years and the only thing keeping me going is a promise I made to my village to avenge their deaths. If I give that up, if my vengeance is not worth it, then I have no reason to exist. Is that what you want?” He stopped before the Egyptian, chin lifted to meet his eyes, his own bright with his fury.

Neither moved as they faced off. They were soaked, even Bakura in his coat, and cold, though Marik noticed it more, but neither backed away or reached for the other. Their hearts raced, anger, frustration, desire all combining into a storm more tumultuous than the one drenching them.

“Me.” Marik murmured the single word, closing the last remaining distance between them. “Let me be your reason. We’re so good together, Bakura.” Tan fingers wiped water from his pale face and tangled in white strands. “Choose me.”

The wraith closed his dark eyes and tipped his head into the tomb keeper’s hand. “I can’t.” Soft, almost a whine, he protested. “I can’t turn my back on my family. It’s not that simple. Their deaths-”

“Were an unfortunate tragedy.” Bakura’s eyes snapped open at Marik’s interruption. “But one that, in a way, allowed us to meet.” Their hands met over the Millennium Ring, their fingers tracing the curves and edges. “If you weren’t defying Anubis through this, if I hadn’t come to power using the Rod, the Rod that you wanted for yourself, we wouldn’t be here now.”

Bakura stared into Marik’s eyes. He wanted to make a flippant comment, something to hurt, to wound, but he couldn’t say it while looking into those purple eyes, eyes that were still wet with tears. He swallowed as his emotions threatened to choke him. “I’ll only hurt you. Now or another day, what does it matter when the end will be the same?”

The man smiled softly. “Because we would make each other happy until that day and we deserve happiness on our own terms.” His palm pressed Bakura’s down against the Ring while his free hand caught Bakura’s chin, thumb rubbing along his bottom lip. “Live for me, Bakura.” Marik tipped his head down and caught Bakura’s mouth with his own, the kiss gentle and tender and full of promise.

Before he could be pushed away, Marik pulled back, lids heavy as he brushed the back of his fingers over Bakura’s cheek and down through his hair and over the shoulder of his coat. With quiet, careful steps, Marik returned to the fire escape, climbing a few steps before turning to offer Bakura his hand.

* * *

_If you know what I'm singing about up here_

_C'mon raise your hand_

_Purple rain Purple rain_

_I only want to see you, only want to see you_

_In the purple rain_

**Author's Note:**

> Ya ibn el sharmouta = son of a bitch  
> Ayreh feek, iksu = fuck you, thief


End file.
